Following the script
by Arkenshield
Summary: In which the Dominatrix watches, as St. Bart's Morgue's Specialist pleasures herself against her will.


"I'll have you know that working with virgins isn't my area," said the Dominatrix, her cold blue eyes fixating on Molly whom she had pushed onto a sofa.

"- And I'm used to playing it rough. So forgive me if I'm not gentle."

Molly said nothing. Irene knew she was scared of what was to come, but no less than the man standing behind the monitors to all the CCTVs in the room they were in right now. At any rate, the girl's unwavering gaze which returned Irene's own said she understood the gravity of the situation no less than the older woman did herself, and Irene had to give her that.

They both knew what had to be done, and they knew it better be done well.

"Strip," she ordered, and Molly nodded as she stood up, her face was still expressionless as she complied.

The girl's pale hands did not tremble to the slightest bit as she proceeded to unbutton her blouse. It may looked like a perfunctory act to untrained eyes, but of course Irene knew better than anyone that it was all an act, and a damn good one at that.

Very commendable, Molly Hooper. Well done.

The blouse was discarded, and Irene nearly whistled, but reined it in. This was not one of her training sessions where she could do whatever she liked. This was for Moriarty, and both of them knew they had to play their part well-

_'Or I'll burn the heart out of you both...'_

But there she was... Molly hooper, wearing a black, lacy bra.

And a _leather_ one at that.

Alright, this was starting to look like it could head up Irene's alley, maybe it was not going to be so difficult after all. This girl did know how to put on a good show.

"We don't have all day, Ms. Hooper."

Molly's lips stretched into an unsmiling smile. The shoes went off first, followed by the socks, then St. Bart's morgue specialist unzipped and discarded her trousers without batting an eye, revealing a pair of stockings and garter-belts disappearing into a tiny black skirt she still sported.

Wait...- _Garter-belts?_

Oh, so you _are_ an actress after all, Molly Hooper.

Irene grinned predatorily at the impression of innocence before her as she moved in closer.

- Just how much does your _dear_ Sherlock know what a naughty girl you really are inside?

"Skirt, off."

"Would you not like to do that yourself, Ms. Adler?"

Molly flicked up a glance at her, and suddenly Irene was reminded that this was meant to be a game of two. Not one of her trainings, no, Moriarty wanted equal contributions from both of them.

Smart move, girl.

"As you wish," Irene said noncommittally, and reached out to yank the shorter girl towards her by the hips, and pulled her skirt down.

Molly gasped, and Irene's eyes widened.

Moriarty had insisted on the no-drug policy, but now it seemed she did not need to worry one bit about breaking that rule...

The pair of garter-belts travelled up to meet with a pair of yet another black leather pants... - or _thongs_, thongs was more faithful a description to what Molly Hooper was wearing. Oh, Lord... The garter-belts latched on to the band of elasticated leather that hung precariously on her hips, revealing the sharp lines of her hipbones. What nearly knocked Irene off her toes, however, was the thin strip of leather that trailed from the front of the elasticated band, downward right _into_ the dip of her cleavage below, and stretched tautly towards the back, running up the cleft of her round, perfect arse.

Irene felt her stomach jolt as she resisted the urge to swallow.

That rough tucking down of her skirt must have made the leather rubbed right against... her clit.

God forbid. It had always taken more than lips of Venus or the fingers of Adonis to excite the Dominatrix. How now, Molly Hooper? Was this innocent little girl going to make her wet having barely uttered a word?

She let her eyes hungrily roam the body of the sacrifice before her hungrily. Molly shuffled uncomfortably, and Irene shot her a look of warning. The girl immediately schooled her expression into a mask of unfeelingness. This was not the time to show any sort of reluctance, _he_ was watching.

Irene suddenly felt a pang of sympathy towards the girl. This was to be her first time, and she could not even afford the luxury to be scared, to be afraid, to be nervous about the unknown.

At least she couldn't let it show, anyway.

Irene stepped away from the girl, her gaze never leaving the taut leather bra that barely contained Molly's sumptuous breasts. A silver of her nipple was showing, and Irene wanted to grunt in frustration. Instead, however, the Dominatrix sat herself down on a couch opposite to Molly, only a couple of arm's reach away, and gestured towards the girl.

"Show me."

Again, Molly Hooper nodded.

Irene watched as the girl eased herself back down onto the edge of that long sofa. It was rather admirable, really, since that taut strip of leather must be rubbing so tightly across the very center of her sex as she did so. Molly spread her legs, and the thin line of leather squeezed down into the cleft of her pussy. The girl sucked in a breath, and so did Irene, albeit unknowingly.

Molly's porcelain white skin was glowing a little with perspiration now, and Irene could see _everything_, from the creaminess of her thighs, to the soft mounds of her pussy which was pushing out from either side of the tight leather. There was not a single hair to be seen, obviously this girl knew what she was up for before she came here today.

Irene's fingers itched for action, but before she could make a move, the nauseatingly familiar voice sounded in her earpiece.

'Stay where you are, honey. Let the girl put on her show.'

_Of course, Jim..._

So Irene had no choice but to continue to sit and watch in the discomfort of her own trousers whose coarse material was beginning to rub against her unclothed sex. She was not going to be turned on by the mere sight of a virgin. God no, she had her reputation to uphold.

When Molly did what she had to do next, however, Irene had to reconsider how long she could actually hold back.

With her legs spread, and her pussy jutting out, Molly Hooper began to run her hands all over the luscious mounds of her breasts. Her fingers were trailing sinful trails over the tight black leather that was her bra, as her palms massaged the thick mountains of her creamy breasts that threatened to burst their way out, teasing a bit more of her nipples to show, but oh Irene wanted to see more. Much more.

Molly let herself gasped a little, just for added effect, Irene knew. Like hell she wouldn't, she fucking ran a course on how to fuck and pleasure, she knew the importance of every little sound that someone makes.

And oh boy was it affecting her...

Molly had her eyes closed now as she ran her thumbs over her cleavage, and tucked them under to rub over her nipples whose hardness was already showing even through the bra. Then her hands then travelled down into the leather cups, as she groped fully at her breasts, pushed them together in the middle, finally freeing them from the constrain of her bra whose straps fell to the side and now slid down to her torso.

Molly sucked in a breath as her breasts came into contact with the cold air in the room.

Irene watched with disinterest clear in her eyes. Molly's nipples were pink, and it did nothing else but proved that her guess was right.

Pink, and hard.

The morgue girl was allowing herself to let her wanton expression show now. She had her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she rubbed her index fingers in little circles on the very tips of her nipples, cajoling them to perk up even higher at the ministration. She closed in her legs momentarily and writhed. Oh, Molly Hooper... It was starting to affect you _down there_ as well, wasn't it? Good girl, it was time they moved the game on.

The Dominatrix's eyes trailed down to the girl's hips again as she began to shift it back and forth slightly. Molly's fingers were still prodding and rubbing and squeezing the tips of her nipples, but her hips were beginning to thrust against the air, her pussy seeking the wonderful friction from the tight leather that was digging into it, bounding her clit.

God, this little bitch needed a good pair of lips of those. Irene forced herself not to gnash her teeth as she felt her nipples now equally rock hard against her shirt. Irene Adler to bother with a bra or a day like this? Don't be silly.

Gone was the bra. Molly was panting a bit now, as her hands finally left her breast, and began to travel down to satisfy a more throbbing need below. Irene could see that her creamy pussy had red lines running along it now on either side, where the leather rim had dug in and rubbed against it, oh but her clit, her sweet clitoris was still trapped inside the waxy leather, not finding the rough friction it sought!

As much as she hated to admit this, Irene was dripping wet herself, it may even begin to show through her silk trousers. Of course, she was not wearing the _leather_ that did not permit any sort of relieve of _moisture_,after all.

Molly's index finger prodded curiously at the source of her desire, and the girl let out a moan as she threw her head back. Obviously, the amount of pleasure that little act had brought must have surprised her. But just as Irene was beginning to worry if this girl knew enough about masturbation to carry this on, the thought was quickly dismissed from her mind as Molly pressed down at the point where the entrance to her pussy would be, and dragged her finger up sharply along the leather line.

"O...Oh!"

She moaned, loudly.

Oh how good that must have felt. Ah... the burning need at that entrance, to the throbbing of her clit, all stimulated at once! It was not every day Irene witnessed virgin girls pleasuring themselves with such innocence.

It seemed Molly decided she liked what she did, and proceeded to repeat the same action a few times more, each time adding more pressure to her finger dragging up over her pussy, stimulating her pounding clitoris which was still constrained, but which now was expanding to the point it was now visible from underneath the leather, trying to push its way out.

How cute. Irene could not wait to see that little nub of flesh.

It looked like her desire was going to be shortly fulfilled, because obviously Molly really did like what she was doing, and was now panting hard, and moaning helplessly against the sofa. She had pulled her feet up onto the sofa now, each anchoring her on either side as she thrusted her hips forward. One hand stretched her sex apart, and the other rubbed insistently against the strip of black leather which stretched tightly over her still clothed sex. The action allowed the leather strip to sink even deeper into her pussy, and was now rubbing deliciously against the inner walls of her pink-tinted vagina, and oh right over her clit without Molly having to touch it at all.

The girl rocked her hips experimentally, and had to throw her head back with a scream.

"Oh...OH! Ah! Ahhhhh!"

Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, as her leaking juice allowed the leather to make an obscene sound against her pussy as she rutted against thin air.

"Oh, Oh Ms. Adler!"

And boy, did Irene like her girls loud...

But...

'No, my dear. It's not yet time.'

- The blasted voice sounded in her ear, and Irene forced herself to sit back down. She stared down at the tight crotch of her own trousers that ran over her sex, and observed how much she had unconsciously pushed against it. The shape of her vagina was visible from underneath the soaking fabric now, oh the throbbing was painful. When she looked back up again, however, the Dominatrix nearly fell over.

Before her, was Molly Hooper, the shy girl who played assistant to Sherlock from time to time, flashing a thin little sharp knife in her hand, which she was now observing with utmost interest.

Where the _hell_ did she even get that from?

Irene's thought was cut short however, as Molly suddenly lowered her hand which held up the knife for inspection, and touched the tip of the blade right at the center of the soaking leather that ran over her pussy-

-and slid!

Irene almost gasped.

But, God bless the accurate precision of this girl's hand! Of course she could be trusted with slicing thin tissues, she worked in a morgue, she cut corpses, for fuck's sake. And of course Irene now had something much more important to pay attention to.

Molly's clit had poked out from the thin cut of that leather. Blushing pink and delicious and dripping wet with cum. The girl stared at the pink nub of flesh in wonder, and experimentally ran the tip of her nail over it.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!"

Her scream of pleasure shook the room, and it was then that Irene decided she was going to have to do something with the situation.

The Dominatrix got up, took one stride towards the girl who was in a mess, and knelt down before her.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" she whispered into Molly's ear as she shrugged off her own jacket and began to unbutton her shirt. "Try rubbing your finger over it, it'll feel even better."

With her eyes still tightly squeezed shut, Molly nodded and complied. Her trembling index finger inched its way down to her peeping clitoris again and rubbed.

Once.

Twice.

And the girl lost herself in a delirium as she threw her head back and screamed and moan as she rubbed mercilessly at the pink nub of flesh that promised oh so much pleasure! Her juice was leaking from underneath now and was making the dirtiest noise against the leather from all her thrusting.

Jim's voice was in her head again, and although Irene was not told to step back, she could only watch.

Molly shot her legs up into the air, and she finally freed herself from that aweful-wonderful thong, and now Irene could see the whole of Molly right before her eyes. Her core was blush red and dripping wet, her juice tricked down the crack of her abused sex and onto the sofa. Molly's screams were incomprehensible now, as her hand again travelled to pussy and widened it, her other hand rubbing its fingers against her soft, swollen clit which now flared out like a flower, revealing its beautiful, sensitive folds inside which Molly wasted no opportunity to dig her finger in and swirled around. Oh God! Was that her scream or Irene's own scream? She could not tell. Oh God it felt so good.

Arching up, Molly brought her pussy to nearly eye-level with Irene, and the Dominatrix could see all if her, _right into_ her. Her untouched hole was leaking out so much juice anybody would have thought she'd already come, but of course Irene would know better. Then suddenly Molly panted, and Irene looked up.

"N-need...-" The girl gasped, "More...-rough. Want more, something-coarse...-"

"Of course..." Irene said quietly as she hid her smirk, and regained her composure. She reached for her riding crop and carefully handed it to Molly, "Use it however you wish, my dear Molly..."

Molly reached for it and muttered a quick thank you which nearly made the Dominatrix laugh. With her eyes still tightly shut, the girl placed the handle of the crop against her clit, closed her legs in, and began to move the stick up and down.

"Oh God - Oh GOD!"

Molly panted. She quickened the pacing of her hands, and was soon rutting against the handle itself as pleasure blinded her. Its coarse material providing delicious friction against the sensitive core, the little grains in the material was sending little jolts of pleasure up to the pit of her stomach every time the rub against that one little spot right at the center of her clit. Oh it was beautiful, Oh...-Oh it was glorious. She could feel her clit flaring out more and more now, the soft folds were spreading apart, letting more and more of her be touched by those rough - grains!

Molly screamed, or was it Irene?

Somewhere in the distance, she could here Jim laugh his mocking laugher, '_Go for it, honey, I know you're STARVING!_'

Irene found herself lurching forward. She caught Molly by her arms, and they both tumbled down onto the sofa. She pinned the morgue girl down onto the warm suede, and Molly's eyes flew open, fear was evident, but she needed not rein it in anymore. Moriarty had green-lit the queue of reckless abandon, and they both knew better than to question it.

Irene lent down and licked in between the full breasts, causing the woman below her to moan on queue. She moved onto assaulting her nipples, nipping one at a time with her teeth. She licked, and sucked, and blew, and Molly screamed. There was no need for kissing between the two of them, romance was never something Moriarty wanted as a part of this, they would stick with all the physicality, and Irene could feel Molly's hand's groping and kneading her breasts now.

Oh and by God, it felt good...

The Dominatrix tilted her head back to moan, and from the corner of her eyes she could see a smile of the face of the girl she was straddling below. This one was a naughty bitch.

"Ah...AHH!"

Irene caught herself letting out a pleasured moan, as Molly's toes found there way to her crotch, and was digging into the thin sheet of silk that clung wetly to the shape of her vagina, and she wiggled them right into Irene's pleasure center!

"Ugh..." She gritted her teeth as her hand moved down to unzip her trousers, "Oh you little-"

'Keep your clothes on, woman.'

Jim's voices sounded in her ear again, and Irene groaned audibly. The Dominatrix pushed Molly's legs down and straddled her again.

'I'll let a whole herd of men and women fuck you down in central London, right in front of the Palace of Westminster if you so desire, but only once this is over. Pleasure the girl.'

"You like this, don't you?" Irene whispered as she squeezed Molly's breasts with both hands, leaving the younger woman to writhe and moan in ecstasy, "Oh, I'm sure you'll like a good fuck, honey."

She was going to get this over with.

Suddenly, Molly's hands were locked tightly above her head to a table post with metal handcuffs, and the girl had enough wit to look scared. This one really knew how to press the right buttons. -Irene could not help but think. - No wonder why Sherlock had kept her for so long...

"P-please, Ms. Adler..." - Just the right amount of tremor in her voice. God, if Irene didn't know better, she would've thought all these acts were real too. The screaming, the moaning, well okay maybe part of that was real, but there was no other way to ensure authenticity in a game like this.

"You've been naughty, Molly Hooper," She smiled her predatory smile as she lowered herself down to the younger girl's crotch, "But you've had your fun, now let's see how much you could take..."

Right, the fear in the girl's eyes were real this time, but she knew the morgue girl knew better than to argue. Irene lifted up the soaked riding crop, and ran her tongue over its long, thin, stem.

"Mmmm..." she moaned, "This will do just the work..."

Molly wiggled, but did not resist, as the older woman pushed her legs up and apart, so she was nearly bent in half on the sofa. Irene reached down to her vagina, and pressed two fingers against her throbbing, wet opening.

"Ah...-Aah, Ahh! Ah-Ahhhh! AHHHHHH!" Molly's scream became high pitched as Irene pressed her finger flat against her opening repeatedly, pulsing it. More cum was leaking out now, and Irene drew her fingers up to inspect. Molly watched in wonder as her sticky cum dripped from Irene's fingers. The Dominatrix chuckled. Did the girl think she was going to lick it off? God no, this was not romance, this was sex. Pure, raw, sex.

Instead, Irene took her dripping wet fingers and plunge them right into Molly's flaring clit, rubbing hard, fast, against the slick bundle of nerves that just bloomed open out more and more the longer she rubbed at it. Oh she could see the head of her clit now, poking out from underneath the hood...

She bent down and gave it a teasing bite, and Molly screamed as the whole sofa shook, thrashing about wildly in search of oblivion.

"Tsk, tsk tsk... Be patient."

Irene grinned as she hooked her now soaking wet fingers under the nub she was ministering, and eased them only a tiny little bit into her soft, wet entrance that was so hot and pulsing, and ah- so virgin.

"W-What are you doing?"

Oh, honey, that was a bad one! The feigned innocence was not going to fool anybody. Knock off the show already.

"Teaching you pleasure," She spat at the girl, and shoved two whole fingers in.

Molly screamed.

But her yells of pain quickly changed to screams of pleasure, as Irene curled her fingers into her. Oh she was so gloriously soft and hot inside, her walls felt like velvet...

She dug in even deeper, oh it was not so difficult for her to find another woman's deepest spot that which made her desire flare up like nothing else, but Moriarty wanted a good show, so Irene had to be creative. Oh, but what could she possibly do...?

Another cry from Molly brought her attention back to the girl's face. Amidst the pure pleasure spelled out on her face, she could read the cocking up of the girl's brows, a reminder- but of what?

Oh, of course... The riding crop!

Irene chuckled darkly, and drew her fingers out of Molly's defiled hole for the first time. The virgin's blood mixed on the trail of cum painted her digits, and she could feel Molly shiver. Right, time to play filthy.

With precision, the Dominatrix reached down and began to draw her bloodied fingers on Molly's flat stomach, a connecting line of cursive letters, into a message intended only for one person...

"This is it, honey," she turned her attention back to Molly and licked her lips, "Scream for me."

The riding crop found its way back into her hand again, and Irene eased it in between the morgue girl's opened legs, and right into her sensitive opening. Molly's cries of pleasure at the intrusion of the hard object was beautiful, her vagina flaring open and leaking cum and sucking the riding crop in like a good pair of dirty lips. Irene growled lustfully, and pumped the solid shaft in and out even faster.

Molly's scream became wilder and wilder as Irene hit the one spot of ecstasy inside her. Her legs thrashed about on either side of the sofa as her vagina leaked out cum that dripped onto the lush suede. Irene swirled the riding crop around, making the leather strip at the end of it scrape deliciously against Molly's most secret spot, and it was that which did it.

With a final thrust of her hips upward, Molly threw her head back and screamed with abandon as she came. Her fingers clenched tight as her swollen pussy shot out more cum than she'd ever imagine she ever could. Irene watched with stern eyes, schooling away the need and the desires of her own which remained unfulfilled. Oh she so would have to take care of herself as soon as they got out of there. The sound of Molly's panting was all that was left filling the room, until...-

"That was beautiful, ladies! And cut!"

Irene could almost see the psychopath's nauseating smile in his voice, but she did not need to imagine for long, for the devil in Westwood had, at the moment, opened the door and walked right in as if he owned the fucking place.

"Nice touch on that message," Moriarty cocked his brows up with disinterest, gesturing towards the message on Molly's stomach. The girl had now freed herself from the fake handcuffs and was calmly putting her socks back on, all signs of previous exhaustion gone as if they never existed.

_You'll never be her first, Sherlock._ - It read.

"Meh... A bit lame, perhaps, but it would have to do."

Jim grinned. Irene said nothing, and Molly smiled an unsmiling smile.

"Nice to have your company, Ms. Adler," she said, meeting Irene's eyes directly. The morgue girl had not bothered with her damaged undergarments and was already zipping up her jacket by the time Irene had turned her attention to her fully. Neither of them knew when Moriarty had left, he just did.

"Would you not like to wash?" Irene was surprised by her own voice, and bit her lips, "We have a bathroom downstairs."

Molly shrugged as she slung her rucksack over one shoulder. She looked up and smiled at the older woman again.

"But that's not part of the script today, is it, Ms. Adler?"

Upon that note, Molly Hooper turned around and left the room, leaving the Dominatrix to stare after her with an indescribable expression on her face.

Jim's mocking laugher echoed in her earpiece.

* * *

A thin parcel was delivered to 221b Baker Street a few days later. Mrs. Hudson furrowed her brows as there were neither correspondence address nor name of sender on the parcel. She flipped it over, and there they were... - two words scribbled on the corner of little brown parcel.

_Miss me?_

* * *

**Author's note**: I had never written a girl on girl fic before, so hopefully that wasn't too shabby. Thanks for reading!


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